LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Lyerin's gaze swept across the cavern, taking in the desperation etched on every face.

Blood stained the ground, and the air was heavy with the stench of death and sweat.

The titanic soldiers stood battered, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Clawed wounds crisscrossed their massive forms, and their eyes—wide and fearful—flicked nervously between the countless trilobites advancing upon them.

"If only you would listen to me," Lyerin said, his voice low but carrying above the chaos with an authority that cut through their panic.

The soldiers exchanged glances, their expressions wavering between skepticism and desperate hope.

The din of battle had reduced them to the edge of despair, but Lyerin's words hung heavy in the air.

They had no choice but to grab at whatever lifeline was thrown their way.

"Yes! Yes, we'll listen!" one of the titans shouted, his voice raw. He stepped forward, blood dripping from a deep gash in his shoulder. "Just tell us what to do!"

"Anything!" another yelled, crushing a trilobite underfoot with a sickening crunch. He turned his head, sweat and grime streaking his face. "We'll do it!"

"Tell us, Lyerin!" a third bellowed, swinging his massive arm in a desperate arc that scattered several creatures. "What do we need to do?!"

Lyerin's expression remained unreadable as he took a measured step forward, evading a clawed swipe with an almost casual grace.

The humanoid trilobites hissed and clicked, their black eyes glistening like polished stones in the dim light of the cavern.

"First," Lyerin said, his tone cold and unwavering, "stop wasting your strength. Every wild swing you make tires you out. Every desperate charge drains you faster than they can be killed."

"But they're everywhere!" a soldier protested, panting heavily. "What choice do we have?!"

"Discipline," Lyerin replied sharply. "You have the strength, but you fight like frightened animals. Form ranks. Hold your ground."

"Form ranks?!" one of the titans barked incredulously. He swatted a trilobite away, its shell shattering like glass. "We're not in a parade ground! These things—"

"They will break you apart because you let them," Lyerin interrupted, his voice like a whip crack. "You are larger, stronger, and faster. Use that. Fight together, not alone. Shield one another."

The soldiers hesitated, glancing at one another.

Their movements were hesitant, uncertain, but a few began to form loose lines, their massive bodies pressed together as they braced against the onslaught.

The trilobites surged forward, claws and mandibles tearing at flesh, but the soldiers began to stand their ground, their combined strength pushing back.

"Good," Lyerin said, nodding once. "But not enough."

"What more?!" one of them gasped, his massive hands straining to hold back two trilobites at once. He shoved them away with a roar, but exhaustion was etched into every line of his face. "We're doing what you said!"

"Focus on their weakness," Lyerin continued, his eyes narrowing. "Their shells are strong, but they have gaps—joints and soft spots. Aim there."

"How do we even see them?!" a soldier demanded, crushing a trilobite's head with a bone-rattling strike. "They're too fast!"

"Then slow them down," Lyerin said simply, sidestepping another lunging trilobite. His movements were fluid, almost dance-like. "Use your environment."

The soldiers exchanged glances, uncertain. "The environment?" one asked, disbelief thick in his voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Look around you," Lyerin said, his voice taking on a cold edge of impatience. "You stand in a cavern filled with stone. Use it."

Slow understanding dawned on a few faces.

One of the titans, his eyes alight with a desperate kind of hope, grabbed a massive stone from the cavern floor and hurled it with all his might.

The trilobite it struck exploded into shards of shell and ichor.

Others quickly followed suit, smashing rocks against the creatures or using the jagged edges of the cavern walls to their advantage.

"It works!" someone shouted, a note of relief breaking through the terror. "It actually works!"

"Of course it works," Lyerin said, his tone biting. "You have the tools. Use them."

The titans' confidence grew, and they began to fight more strategically.

Two soldiers worked together to pin a trilobite between their massive arms, crushing it before it could react.

Another group formed a line, their backs to the wall, fending off wave after wave with coordinated strikes.

The cavern echoed with the sounds of battle—grunts, roars, and the sickening crunch of shells breaking.

But the fight was far from over.

The trilobites, sensing resistance, doubled their efforts.

One of the soldiers stumbled, his foot slipping on blood-slick stone.

A trilobite lunged at him, claws poised to strike.

He braced himself for death—but another titan caught the creature mid-air, hurling it aside with a roar of defiance.

"Stay together!" Lyerin barked, his eyes blazing. "Protect one another!"

"We're trying!" a soldier yelled, his voice cracking. He swung his fist with all his strength, smashing another trilobite to pieces. "But they just keep coming!"

Lyerin's expression darkened. "Then we need to end this quickly."

"How?!" someone screamed, his voice raw. "Tell us!"

Lyerin's gaze swept the battlefield, calculating. "Draw them in," he said. "Make them focus on one point. Overwhelm them with your size and strength. When they are distracted, crush them all."

"That's suicide!" a soldier protested, his eyes wide. "We'll be overwhelmed!"

"Not if you do it right," Lyerin replied coldly. "Trust me."

There was silence—a heartbeat of hesitation.

Then, slowly, the titans nodded. They gathered together, forming a tight circle. The trilobites hissed and clicked, sensing weakness, and surged forward as one.

"Hold the line!" someone yelled, his voice fierce.

"Together!" another roared.

The titans braced themselves, their massive forms trembling under the weight of the assault.

Claws tore at their flesh, but they held firm. Inch by inch, they drew the trilobites in, funneling them toward the center.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, and every heartbeat felt like an eternity.

"Now!" Lyerin shouted.

The titans erupted, their strength unleashed in a final, desperate surge.

They crushed trilobites underfoot, shattered shells with their fists, and hurled bodies into the darkness. Experience exclusive tales on m v|l e'm,p| y- r

The cavern trembled with their fury, and for a brief, shining moment, they were unstoppable.

When the dust settled, the trilobites lay in shattered pieces around them.

The titans stood victorious—bloodied, battered, but alive.

Lyerin stepped forward, his expression inscrutable. "Next time," he said softly, "listen from the start."

The soldiers barely had a moment to catch their breath.

Blood dripped from their wounds, and their massive chests heaved from exertion.

The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of ichor.

Stones were slick with gore, and their ears rang with the fading echoes of battle. For a heartbeat, there was a fragile silence.

Then the ground trembled. A low rumble reverberated through the cavern walls, and every head snapped toward the darkness.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of glistening black eyes emerged from the shadows, reflecting the dim light like an ocean of stars.

The new wave of humanoid trilobites moved as one, their claws clacking in a horrific symphony that made the air feel colder.

Lyerin stepped forward, his gaze as calm and steady as ever. "Do you still need my help?" he asked, his tone almost mocking, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity beneath it.

The titanic soldiers, bruised and bloodied, exchanged glances.

They wanted to scream "yes."

The words were on their lips, desperate and pleading, but they swallowed them down.

Lyerin's piercing gaze told them everything they needed to know. He wanted to see what they could do—without him.

One of the titans stepped forward, his fists clenched so hard that the knuckles cracked. "We can handle it," he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "We've come this far."

"Fine," Lyerin said, leaning against a jagged rock as if settling in to watch a spectacle. "Show me."

The wave of trilobites surged, an unstoppable tide of chitin and malice.

The ground quaked beneath their charge.

The titans took a collective breath, their bodies tense.

There was no strategy whispered in their ears this time. No guiding hand to lead them through the darkness. Only their raw strength—and their fragile hope.

"Form up!" bellowed one of the soldiers, trying to echo Lyerin's previous command. "Hold the line!"

They scrambled to form a defensive ring, their massive forms pressed together.

The first trilobite struck with a deafening screech, throwing itself at the line with reckless abandon.

Its claws clanged off a titan's arm like a blacksmith's hammer on steel.

The titan grunted, his muscles straining, and shoved the creature back. Another trilobite leapt over its fallen kin, jaws snapping.

"Incoming on the left!" a soldier shouted, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. He swung his arm in a wide arc, smashing two trilobites mid-air. Their shells cracked, but three more were already clawing at his legs.

"Stay together!" another yelled, panic creeping into his tone. "Don't let them break the line!"

But staying together was easier said than done.

The trilobites were relentless, their bodies a blur of motion.

One titan stumbled as a creature latched onto his arm, its claws sinking deep. He roared in pain, trying to shake it off. Another trilobite lunged at his exposed back.

"Get it off me!" he screamed, thrashing wildly. Blood sprayed as the creature's claws ripped deeper.

"I'm coming!" a fellow soldier roared, charging forward. He barreled into the trilobite, knocking it away, but left a gap in the line. Instantly, two more trilobites seized the opportunity, slipping through.

"We're getting overrun!" someone shouted, desperation clear in their voice. "We need to regroup!"

"Regroup where?!" another snapped, crushing a trilobite's head with a sickening crunch. "They're everywhere!"

One soldier, his body shaking from exhaustion, tried to remember Lyerin's words.

"Aim for the joints!" he cried, striking out with all his might.

His fist slammed into the soft gap between a trilobite's armored plates, and it let out a guttural shriek, collapsing in a twitching heap.

"Focus on their weak points!" he repeated, trying to rally the others. But for every trilobite that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

The ground beneath them was a battlefield of blood and ichor, of shattered shells and broken bodies.

A titan stumbled backward, tripping over the remains of a fallen comrade.

A trilobite pounced, claws raised to strike.

The titan barely managed to catch its arms, their strength evenly matched. He grunted, sweat streaming down his face.

"I can't hold it!" he yelled, muscles straining.

Two soldiers rushed to his aid, grabbing the trilobite and tearing it away.

They hurled it to the ground and stomped, the cavern shaking with every blow. But their victory was short-lived.

More trilobites closed in, their dark eyes glinting with predatory glee.

"We're not fast enough!" a soldier panted, his movements slowing. "They keep coming!"

"Then we need to be smarter!" another snapped, swinging a stone like a club.

The impact shattered a trilobite's shell, but left the soldier open. Claws raked across his back, and he screamed, falling to one knee.

Panic set in. The titans lashed out wildly, their coordination unraveling.

They fought with all the desperation of cornered animals, but their strength was fading.

For every creature they killed, another took its place.

They were being worn down, bit by bit, their massive forms buckling under the relentless assault.

"Is this it?" one of them gasped, blood streaming from a wound on his forehead. "Are we done for?"

"Don't say that!" another roared, smashing a trilobite against the cavern wall. "We're not done!"

But his defiance rang hollow.

The titans were tiring, their movements slowing.

A trilobite lunged, and a soldier barely managed to parry.

Another clawed at his leg, bringing him to one knee.

The line was breaking, and they all knew it.

From his perch, Lyerin watched with an impassive gaze.

The titans' desperation was palpable, their struggle immense. Yet he made no move to intervene.

He sidestepped a trilobite that lunged his way, almost lazily, as if swatting away a fly.

The soldiers saw it—the effortless way he moved—and something inside them cracked. Envy. Desperation. A raw, biting need to prove themselves. They roared, a collective cry of defiance, and surged forward with renewed fury.

"Push them back!" one of the titans bellowed, his voice raw. "For ourselves!"

They fought harder, digging deep into reserves of strength they hadn't known they possessed.

Two soldiers worked together, grabbing a trilobite and smashing it against the cavern floor.

Another trio formed a wedge, plowing through the creatures with brute force.

They used the environment—stones, walls, each other. Anything to gain an edge.

But it was chaos. Disorganized. Desperate.

For every small victory, they paid a heavy price.

Another titan fell, his body crumpling beneath the weight of three trilobites. Another screamed as claws tore through his arm.

The line wavered. Cracks formed. But they fought on.

"Lyerin!" one of them gasped, his voice filled with raw desperation. "Please…"

Lyerin tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.

"Is this all you have?" he murmured, more to himself than to them.

The titans didn't hear him.

They were too busy fighting, too busy surviving.

Another wave of trilobites surged forward.